Dépaysement
by Scripturiens
Summary: Sometimes the only thing you can do is wait for the cold to pass and hold on to the promise of spring. [Takimi, Mimato]
1. Un

**AN: **I know, I know I haven't updated _Battle Hymn_ in two weeks, but aren't you glad I'm bringing you another story?

_Dépaysement:_ The feeling that comes from not being in one's home country - of being a foreigner, or an immigrant, of being somewhat displaced from your home.

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**I.**

Checking his watch, the blond realised with a sigh that he was late. He was supposed to meet his mother for dinner _half an hour ago_ and mentally cringed at the reprimand he knew now couldn't be avoided. The excuses were ready on his tongue – band practice had extended longer than necessary because there were many details to consider before their next concert in a few weeks and his girlfriend, Sora, had decided to drop by and then he'd had to walk her home afterwards. At least she wouldn't fault him for that, he supposed, Natsuko rather liked Sora.

Still, that little stunt had made him late and now he was hurrying through the busy streets of Odaiba, zig-zagging as the city came to life with activity. He took out his phone to call his mother and let her know he was on his way, when his eyes caught someone he hadn't expected to find. The girl had looked up at the exact same time and neither of them could now avoid or deny the fact that they had seen each other. Sheepishly, Yamato approached her.

"Mimi," he said by way of greeting her.

"Ishida-san," she replied, far colder than he had expected. No, not cold. _Just_ _flat_, he decided. He still wasn't used to her being so controlled and formal around him.

"What are you doing here?"

The girl raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the sign behind her. _Toho Cinemas Mediage, _it read. It was a large American style cinema complex and suddenly he felt foolish for asking.

"I'm watching a film," Mimi replied slowly and he immediately felt his ears grow warm.

"On your own?"

"Of course not."

He was about to ask with whom then, but caught himself at the last minute. He didn't think he really wanted to know and still felt somewhat embarrassed about the whole situation. There was a small awkward silence until a voice calling out to her made them turn towards the street to find the source.

_"–Mimi!"_

Yamato only raised an eyebrow, but Mimi's lips curled into a wide smile as the handsome young man approached them. He was as tall as Yamato, blond with impossibly blue eyes and a smile that he knew very, very well.

"I'm sorry I made you wait, I was with mum and my brother was running late–," He stopped, suddenly aware of said brother's presence near the petite brunette.

"Yamato."

His name was spoken softly, like the surprise it was.

"Takeru," he said pleasantly, and then, realising what this was and what it looked like for him to be there, he shifted his hands into his pockets. "I was on my way."

After another silence, it was Mimi who spoke. "Well, we don't want to keep Natsuko-san waiting. It was nice seeing you," and with a small smile and a nod she turned from him, gracefully making her way towards the entrance of the building. Takeru gave him a smile and a small wave and left after her, reaching her in a few long strides.

Yamato walked away, unable to erase the image of his brother's arm around her shoulders.

His mother was waiting at a small table near the window, a lukewarm cup of tea between her hands. She looked up with a smile as he approached her, removing his coat before kissing her on the cheek.

"You're late," Natsuko chided gently. "And you made Takeru late for his date. He was really excited, you know." There was a pause and the thought that this was somehow endearing to her made him want to roll his eyes. "You should probably apologise to him."

"I ran into him earlier, he seemed fine." His eyes were fixed on his mother and she gave him another smile, as if she didn't realise what he just said. When she looked up he half-smiled, calling the waiter over to the table. "But I'll make it up to him."

"Good," Natsuko said happily. "I think he really likes Mimi-chan."


	2. Deux

**II.**

A week after the cinema incident, Yamato saw her again. He was at his mother's place, not the rare occurrence it once was, and volunteered to get the door as the bell rang. He hadn't expected to find Mimi, dressed in a pretty blue dress and white coat, staring back at him.

"Ishida-san," she said, blinking quickly. "Is – is Takeru home?"

"Uh, Mimi-san? I'm sorry, come in," he said, opening the door wide and letting her come inside. "He's running a bit late, I guess," he muttered conversationally. "I don't think he's ready."

He remained standing while Mimi sat down on one of the low couches in the room.

"Oh no, I'm just very early," she paused. "I was nearby and told him I'd meet him here instead."

"I see."

"I didn't think you'd be here."

"We have dinner together once a week."

He didn't know why it was important for Mimi to know that. Perhaps because she had tried so hard before to convince him to reach out to his mother, fix their estranged relationship. Perhaps because somehow he wanted her to know she was partly responsible for this new development.

As if on cue, Mimi smiled at him.

"I'm glad to hear that."

Takeru's head popped out of his doorframe and he sent a scintillating smile Mimi's way.

"Mimi!" he greeted happily, "I'll be right outside."

Yamato watched her smile sweetly at his brother and wave a careless hand.

"Take your time," she told him. "I don't mind waiting."

"Since when do you not mind waiting?" Yamato asked, eyebrows arched high.

She gave him a look but the next second it was gone and in its wake she offered him a small, bland smile. "Since your practices got longer, I guess it doesn't bother me now as it did then."

Somehow, he didn't think he could return her smile. "I guess I was asking for that. I never meant to make you wait, Mi-rin." He looked at her and cleared his throat softly. "Mimi-san," he corrected.

Mimi smiled at him again and he wanted to wipe that smile off her face, ask her why she was giving them away so easily. But then, Mimi had always been easy to smile – especially for him.

"That hardly matters now, does it?"

She stood up as Takeru once again entered the living room. The younger boy was dressed impeccably, his fingers deftly doing the buttons on his gray peacoat. Autumn was giving way to colder winds and coats were a necessity, even in the warm afternoon.

For a moment it seemed to Yamato that Takeru was blushing as he looked at him, but the next moment he was looking at his turned back as he opened the door for Mimi, who was already moving past him.

"Please tell mum I won't make it to dinner," Takeru said over his shoulder, the smile on his lips more pronounced, "We've got plans already."

Yamato nodded but had no time to answer before the door closed on him and he heard them placidly falling into conversation. He listened until their voices faded away.

By the time Natsuko came back from the convenience store, Yamato was already busy in the kitchen, chopping mushrooms and chestnuts and heating up the stove.

"Did you bring the sanma?"

"And daikon," she said, holding out the fish and the fresh white radishes. She walked into the kitchen and set to washing them while her son took care of the rice and it was a while before she casually asked about her other son.

"Takeru won't be joining us for dinner," he commented, taking a small mushroom and cutting it to tiny bits.

"Mimi-chan again?" Natsuko asked with a chuckle. "I'm starting to get jealous."

Yamato declined to comment, but his hand slipped and he almost sliced his finger off. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking on the wound almost resentfully.

"Yamato, please be more careful," his mother said as she offered him a band-aid. "You can really get hurt."


	3. Trois

**III.**

"Goal! Yes, go Taichi!" Sora screamed, releasing his hand as she jumped from her seat to cheer on their friend. Yamato clapped lazily, his eyes seemingly fixed on the game in front of them. Taichi, captain of the university football team, had requested – nay, _demanded_ their presence that Friday night and heeding his warning tone (and the begging cleverly hidden behind it), they all worked around their schedules to make it happen. Yamato had even cancelled band practice, which gave him a rare night to spend with his girlfriend and their friends.

"Did you see that?" Sora asked as she sat back down, still grinning widely.

"It really was brilliant," Koushiro said, peeking above his tablet to look at the field for a moment before returning to his work.

"Did you even _see_ it, Koushiro?"

"Of course I did," he turned his head back to look at Sora. "You offend me."

She gently pat his head and said something else but Yamato wasn't listening to her anymore. Two benches down and one to the right, Mimi was doubling down in laughter while his brother looked sheepish but very pleased with himself.

"– Yamato?"

"Mm?"

Sora was looking at him expectantly. He blinked twice trying to get her into focus. "I'm sorry," he apologised, "I got distracted by the game."

"I can see that," she giggled, "I asked you if you wanted anything. I'm going to get a soda."

Yamato shook his head, but he muttered, "Water," as an afterthought.

When his girlfriend was out of sight, Koushiro spoke up once more, but this time he didn't look up from whatever he was getting done. "Does it bother you?" he asked.

"Hm? No, Sora is very independent. I respect that."

"I'm not talking about Sora."

The blonde's eyes travelled to find his brother, who was now opening his mouth as Mimi tried to throw bits of cotton candy into it.

"You'd make a great basketball player," he heard him say. Mimi giggled. He tried not to roll his eyes.

"You're a terrible liar," she replied, her tinkling laughter reaching his ears despite the noise. "I hope you're a better player."

Takeru grinned slyly. "The best."

Rolling his eyes, he turned away from the sickly sweet sight, as if he'd catch something if he stared for too long. When he turned back, Koushiro was looking at him with uncanny interest, as if he still expected an answer to such a ludicrous question. Yamato shrugged, ignoring his friend's stare and looking instead at a very flustered Jyou sitting next to a beautiful girl with long, dark hair who was fervently screaming at the referee.

"I didn't expect Saegusa-san to be so enthusiastic," he commented lightly.

Koushiro sighed and Yamato suddenly wanted to punch him.

"I thought it might."

Sora returned with their drinks and handed each of them their choice of beverage, but pointedly missed the look her boyfriend barely hid. "What were you talking about?" she asked, sipping on her cold fizzy soda as her eyes followed the ball Taichi was trying to protect.

"Saegusa-san," Koushiro answered for him, "We were just talking about how happy Jyou-san looks with her, wouldn't you agree?"

"They'd make a lovely couple," Sora agreed with a smile, "It's nice to see Jyou relaxing for a change. Don't you think?"

Yamato yawned, stretching on the bench as he leaned backwards and rested on his elbows. "I don't … think much about it," he replied, a perfect imitation of nonchalance. "Jyou can do what he wants, I guess."

Sora shook her head, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You can't be so indifferent to things, Yamato-kun. Thinking about others won't kill you, you know."

"I'm not taking any chances," he replied, taking a swig of water and making a face as he swallowed what tasted suspiciously like bile. He heard Sora laugh and turned to her, her smile meeting him brightly.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Take-chan and Mimi-chan are sweet, too."

Yamato knocked back his water, wishing it was anything but.


	4. Quatre

**IV.**

They threw a party to celebrate the team's crushing win of 4-1 with a hat trick from Yagami Taichi that would go on to become legendary. That was what the youngsters were yelling about the place anyway. After the game was over they had all gone over for a celebratory dinner, which had somehow morphed into celebratory drinks until they had decided to move the party (for it had become a raging one) to a house belonging to someone in their present company. Yamato didn't really know the owner – did anyone, really? But Daisuke and Miyako had been so excited that Sora simply couldn't say no.

Yamato sighed as he brought a cold bottle to his lips, his eyes growing listless as he sat in a half-secluded corner and observed as the party descended into all-out drunken debauchery. Sora, who had kissed him on the lips before Taichi had practically yanked her from his arms, was now engaged in some sort of crazy dance with their friends – something that Yamato had rather forcefully declined to join in.

He chuckled as Miyako and Hikari twirled around, and he wouldn't have missed Jyou dancing clumsily with Saegusa-san _for the world_, but when he saw Takeru and Mimi holding hands as they did some sort of twirls (which all seemed to end in him holding her by the waist), Yamato thought he'd had enough fun for one night. He downed the rest of his beer and moved his quiet, brooding self somewhere closer to the drinks.

With a happy buzz settling comfortably in his head, Yamato wasn't all that bothered when he re-emerged to find his friends. Sora's face was pink but it melted into relief when she saw him.

"I was looking for you!" she exclaimed, "Listen, we're taking Taichi and Daisuke home." Behind her, Hikari was struggling with both youngsters as they tried to pry themselves free and continue with the festivities. Sora reached over to kiss him once more, on the cheek.

"I'll come with you," he said quickly, but she shook her head.

"I think Take-chan needs your help."

Clearly, he did. Miyako, who was usually more than a handful, proved to be more than a match for both Takeru and Mimi, who were failing miserably at subduing her in her current inebriated state. Giving his girlfriend another quick peck on the cheek he reached his brother and with his help, succeeded in getting Miyako out of the house.

"Are you sure you don't need help?" Mimi asked him, "I can take her with me."

"No, her mother made me promise I'd bring her home early. But Mimi-chan," he was frowning, "I can't walk you home tonight."

"Oh, Take-chan," she said, and she smiled so sweetly Yamato thought his brother would die then and there, "Don't worry about that, I –"

"I'll walk you home," Yamato said, surprising even himself as soon as the words rolled off his tongue. He sighed. "We live in the same area, Mimi-san. It's no trouble."

Mimi looked like she was about to protest but only sighed and smiled again before pressing a soft kiss to Takeru's cheek, making him turn a furious shade of pink. "Text me when you two get home."

Yamato ignored Takeru's blush, patting his head twice as he used to when they were children. For some reason he felt like reminding everyone how young his brother was. He waited until they disappeared around the corner before beginning their wordless walk down the opposite street and had become acutely aware of how much he missed her voice and her smile, when she spoke.

"I had fun tonight."

"It was a good party."

"Thank you for walking me home, Yamato-san," Mimi said, and there she was again, blushing sweetly for him. He nodded, waiting for her to open the door to her home.

And then, because he couldn't have stopped himself even if he had tried – "He likes you," he blurted out.

But if Mimi heard him, she made no sign of it.


	5. Cinq

**Author's Note: **Thank you very much for your sweet reviews, I hope you stick around for a while. The updates will keep coming once or twice a day, I'm just editing and checking for mistakes. For all my efforts though, I still seem to miss some.

Fun Fact: Despite what the word count on FF says, every single chapter is exactly 672 words long (sans author notes).

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**V.**

He watched her as she poured the tea, her hands moving more gracefully than he could ever imagine. Her face looked so calm, so stoic and composed that he had trouble reconciling this Mimi with the one who had opened the door, surprised beyond sense to find him standing in front of her. He took the mug between his hands, the warmth spreading through his cold fingers in a welcoming manner.

Mimi sat down across the table, her cup untouched. The namagashi before them came in beautiful shapes and colours though his looked particularly appealing. He surveyed the sakura-shaped sweet before him, offering Mimi a grateful smile, brief though it was. Vaguely, he wondered whether she had prepared the spread herself.

"You didn't have to do this, Mimi-san," he told her, "I didn't mean to intrude."

"Nonsense," she told him, waving her hand airily and shaking her head, "I can use the practice." She gently cut into her sweet, a green confection filled with sweet bean paste, and took the tiny morsel into her mouth.

He brought his cup to his mouth, savouring the delicate beverage as he swallowed. When he looked up she was staring right at him, her eyes pools of gold with touches of hazel that he had once loved and had never since stopped. "You didn't tell me you were coming back."

He hadn't expected to say such a thing and from the look in her eyes, neither had she. Mimi looked discomfited for a moment, uncomfortable. Then she settled with a sigh that made her look as fragile as spun sugar.

"It didn't matter. It wouldn't have changed anything," she said calmly. "Shouldn't have, anyway," she added as an afterthought.

"It mattered to _me_." He spoke so quietly Mimi looked at him for a long time, as if unsure whether he had spoken at all. "And it changed everything."

He took a bite off his own sweet, chewing slowly for a long time.

"You had made your choice." She shrugged, taking a second bite.

"You weren't here," he said lamely, "You should have been."

Mimi pursed her lips and he mentally prepared himself for the tirade that he knew would come his way. Though she was almost finished with her namagashi, her demeanour was anything but sweet.

"Yamato-san, we've been over this," she paused, "No excuses."

"It's not an excuse," he defended.

"No, it's really not."

His look softened into an apologetic one and then into something else not entirely voluntary. "I'm sorry about the other night, too. What I said…" he shook his head softly, "It was out of line."

"I kissed him."

He looked at her, his warm tea forgotten. Mimi didn't look apologetic or sheepish, she didn't look nervous or fragile. She looked tired, almost bored. As if her confession was a daily staple barely worth telling and not the sort of thing that could break his heart.

"Come again?"

"Your brother," she sighed softly, "Take-chan."

Yamato turned the cup in his hands and watched it carefully, as though it commanded his full and unwavering attention. When he spoke his voice was so low he barely recognised it himself. "What was it like?"

She looked surprised but whether it was the question or the hollow tone of his voice, Yamato did not know. "You're asking me what it was like to kiss your brother?"

"You don't have to rub it in. Just answer the question."

"It was … sweet," Mimi hesitated, her voice soft, "Sweeter than you."

The last of his tea was lukewarm and bitter; the aftertaste lingered on his tongue long after he had finished it. His thin, pale fingers tapped against the surface of the table. He waited a moment before standing up, gently pushing himself off the table. Mimi was now looking at him with eyes so sad they almost made him want to cry.

He paused at the living room doorway, his voice colder than he would have wanted it to be. "I think he's in love with you."


	6. Six

**VI.**

He watched her for long moments, a frown creasing his forehead as he concentrated on her hair, her eyes, her lips. Though her beauty was simple, he couldn't deny that there was something very appealing about her serene expression, her small, delicate smile and her gentle ruby eyes. Yamato frowned, his face twisting into a thoughtful expression.

"Sora is very pretty," he announced suddenly.

Taichi, who was lying on the grass next to him and busy with his portable videogame, answered without thinking. "Of course she is," he stopped, suddenly aware of what he said and flushed slightly. "I mean – I guess. I don't know, she's _your_ girlfriend, man."

Yamato paid little attention to him, his eyes fixed on the redhead in question. "She's also kind," he said quietly, "Intelligent. Gentle."

"And far too good for you?"

He caught himself just in time. "I was just thinking out loud."

"You know what's even more surprising than you landing Sora?" Taichi asked crassly, his game back on track now that conversation had steered into safer topics. "Mimi and Takeru," he paused, looking from Yamato to Takeru, his eyes squinting in slight suspicion. "Must be the blonde thing."

At the look Yamato gave him, Taichi just laughed.

"Ah, you have no sense of humor."

"A joke?"

"Of course."

"Not your funniest one."

Taichi sighed.

"You win some, you lose some."

Yamato's eyes were fixed on the couple though he liked to pretend he was focused elsewhere. They looked like they were having fun and Yamato _hated_ it. He turned away, already feeling guilty and ashamed for being upset about it in the first place.

"You know, Hikari said the strangest thing the other day," Taichi began casually.

With reluctance, Yamato took the bait. "And what would that be?"

"She said that you probably had some _unsorted_ feelings. She seems to think that's why you're acting so strange lately," there was a pause, and Yamato had to school himself not to look away from Taichi, keeping his face nonchalant – bored, even. "Am I going to have to hit you?"

He sighed, turning his chin up and to the side to crack his neck. Mimi and Miyako were helping Takeru and Koushiro with the lunch spread. Taking advantage of the last warm autumn afternoon it had occurred to them to have a picnic, an idea that sounded fantastic at the time. Now that he was seeing his younger brother sharing secret smiles with his ex – well, not _girlfriend_, certainly, but with _his_ Mimi, Yamato couldn't think of anything worse than this.

"Well?"

"Oh, darn, I forgot the icebox. I'll be right back!" Mimi exclaimed, standing up and brushing her knees as she made a dash across the park towards her car.

"Quite possibly," Yamato muttered before standing up and taking off in the direction in which Mimi had just disappeared. Behind him, he distinctly heard Taichi muttering _"idiot"_ before groaning, _"I lost my stupid game, too!"_

He reached her just as she slid the heavy cooler out of her car's trunk, dropping it to the ground with a loud thump. Mimi looked conflicted, as if she just realised the thing was far too heavy for her to lift on her own. "Yamato-san," she said quietly when his hands lifted the object and held it in front of him. "Thank you."

"What are you playing at?" he asked her quietly.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're fooling around with Takeru," he accused, "He's my little brother."

"And you are _very_ concerned for him, I imagine."

He shrugged. "It's what older brothers do."

"If he's your brother, then he'll break my heart before I have a chance to do any damage," she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "That should put your worries to rest."

"Mimi-san?" his voice was soft, but he knew she heard.

"What?"

"Did I break your heart?"

Her arms hung limply but he could see her grabbing a fistful of her dress. "Did I say that?" she laughed, "You must've heard wrong."


	7. Sept

**VII.**

The moment he opened his eyes, Yamato knew it wouldn't be a good day. He woke up earlier than usual but wasted no time in changing into his gym clothes – a form-fitting long-sleeved gray shirt and black pants. Slipping his feet inside black running shoes, he left the apartment without making a noise, just like he did every morning.

His run was programmed to last an hour as indicated by both his running gadget and the playlists he created for that specific purpose. He took different routes depending on the day, a trick he had found most useful to avoid getting bored. Still, it was impossible not to fall into a sort of routine. He knew that on Thursdays such as today, it was his neighbour's son's turn to walk the dog. He also knew that if he took a left turn before the park he'd run into two young women on the way to the train station, both carrying their half-eaten breakfast. And if he ran straight through the park on Saturdays, he knew he'd find an old man and his grandson overlooking the distant sea and Central Tokyo.

The skies were a dark shade of gray, and it looked like it was going to rain. He was running through the park, his gaze looking for the familiar early risers that he normally encountered, but there were very few of those that day. Half-way on his run back home, the rain came. It was as if October refused to die quietly, with constant rain and the sort of cold that seeped quietly under your door. When he arrived his father was just rising, surprised at the mess he found his son in.

"It's raining?" he asked, still half-asleep.

Yamato grunted before slamming the bathroom door and drawing a long, hot shower.

By the time he had made and eaten breakfast, the rain had settled into a steady downpour. He stepped out of the house, neatly tucked under a transparent umbrella. He left for class, wondering if the weather could possibly get worse. It didn't, but the rain did not stop all day and his professors made sure to pile extra coursework in lieu of the nasty weather. Vaguely, he wondered where Mimi was.

Sora met him at 6:00PM sharp at the restaurant they had agreed on. She liked going out on Thursdays before Yamato's practices; he was always grateful for an early dinner. She had been quiet that night, and he was unsure if that worried or relieved him.

He told her as much as they walked out of the restaurant.

"I don't think I like this place," she replied with a sigh.

His eyebrows went up.

"I thought the point of coming here every Thursday was that you liked the place."

She gave him a look, pursing her lips as she looked away. "It's been almost three years."

"Come again?"

"It's been almost three years since we started dating."

"Er, yes," he began, not sure where this was heading. "Around Christmas."

"Do you like the restaurant?"

He shrugged. "It's okay."

"In three years, you've never asked to go elsewhere."

"I know you like coming here. Why is it such a big deal?"

"Because it's been _three years_, Yamato, and you've never said anything."

He frowned at her but despite the cold her cheeks were flushed and she had a strange look on her face. His mouth was set in a firm line once understanding dawned on him.

"You're leaving me." It was not a question.

Sora sighed, giving him a sad smile. "You'd have to be here for that to happen," she told him. They had stopped walking, the lamppost casting a soft light that beautified her, somehow. They were only a few blocks away from the venue where he practiced.

Sora approached him, placing a warm hand on his cold cheek. "Wherever you are, will you come back to me?"

Yamato sighed, closing his eyes and wishing they could stay like that.

"I don't know how to answer that."


	8. Huit

**Author's Note: **Six chapters more to go, you guys. I've been having a lot of fun writing this project, especially because the word count restriction has been fun to work with.

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**VIII.**

When he found her sitting in that café, alone, his heart skipped a beat. And when she looked up with a smile that faltered once she saw who it was, his heart almost stopped right then and there. "Were you waiting for someone else?" he asked softly, unable to keep the hurt from his voice. How long had it been since she stopped waiting for him?

She gave him a strange look, lips half parted as if she were about to say something. But then she shook her head and blinked; her smile was almost sad. "Don't be like that," she said, gesturing towards the empty seat in front of her, which he took in silence.

"I'm meeting Takeru later."

"I imagined as much," he sighed, gingerly picking up the menu. As if magically drawn by his presence, a young girl in a puffy dress and apron came to their table, stuttering her way through taking his order. He asked for a mocha, his eyes fixed on the brunette and her barely touched hot cocoa. She looked very pretty in warm autumnal colours, though he had always preferred her in soft springs or bright summers. Mimi had been born to be looked at, and these earthy hues softened her too much, dulled her light. Still, she looked prettier than she should for meeting his brother, he noted with definite disappointment.

"How have you been?" she bit her lip, "I was sorry to hear about you two."

"Do you mean that?" he asked, just as the waitress brought him his hot beverage. He thanked her, ignoring her hopeful smile. Mimi held her tongue though she could not help a rather venomous look at the waitress. He smiled, grateful to see that she was not impervious to him yet.

"Yes," she said, lips pursed around her ceramic mug, "I mean it."

Yamato sighed, looking up at the ceiling with tired eyes. "Did she tell you?" he asked.

"I heard from Taichi," she replied vaguely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I thought about calling you that day," he admitted, his eyes fixed on the window behind her. "But I didn't want you to feel responsible. You weren't," he grimaced, "Not _entirely_."

"Don't be silly. We're friends before anything else. I wouldn't have turned you away, regardless of where we stand."

_Friends._

Of course she would choose to say that. He hadn't been trying to blame her, but her reply and the way she refused him still stung. He could feel her eyes on him and his own sapphire blues narrowed. "You're doing this to punish me," he accused, shaking his head softly.

Mimi sighed, her mouth curled up in distaste of the word.

"I am doing no such thing."

He scoffed, looking away. "My brother, Mimi-san?"

"Did it ever occur to you that I might like him too?" Mimi asked, lifting the cup to her lips once more.

Yamato felt himself grow cold for a moment, but he gripped his mug and looked straight at her. "What happens when you break his heart?"

"What makes you so sure I will?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder and crossing one leg over the other. "I care about him."

"If he's my brother," he echoed her words, "Then you will leave him. And it will destroy him." His drink was warm, the bitterness toned down a notch by the cocoa. He was waiting for something – a twinkle in her eyes, a twitch on her lips, anything that would indicate that she was not being serious. But Mimi only sighed, looking at him levelly with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Whatever is happening between me and Takeru is about him and me," she said softly, "And it has nothing to do with you, Yamato."

He drank the last of his coffee and left a couple of bills on the table, enough to cover for his drink and hers. "You keep saying that but you're cutting too deep, Mimi, for it to be true."


	9. Neuf

**IX.**

November arrived with a vengeance. There were no warm afternoons, no sunny mornings. Yamato had been busier than ever but he tried not to miss too many dinner dates with his mother, though he studiously avoided visiting her at home. That day though, Natsuko would not hear of it.

"I'm cooking," she told him firmly, "Can't a mother take care of her sons?"

It was the _sons_ part that had his mind reeling.

He arrived at the apartment building, hands buried deep inside his pockets as he waited for someone to let him in. The first thing he saw when the door opened were eyes as blue as his, looking back at him with a smile. He kissed Natsuko on the cheek as she threw her arms around his neck.

"I've missed you," she told him.

"It's only been two weeks," he replied with a sigh.

"Almost three."

"Do you need help?" he asked, his eyes searching for Takeru.

"You can set the table. Takeru should be back anytime, he phoned before you came in."

He made a small noncommittal sound and got to it. He had just finished setting everything up when the door opened, letting a flushed Takeru in. On his hands he carried a white, nondescript box.

"I'm home," he announced, his smile widening when he saw his older brother. "Ni-san, you're here."

"Hey," Yamato replied politely, unable to fully return his smile because when Takeru walked past him and towards his mother, he caught a whiff of her scent on him and his heart sank.

They ate dinner together, with Yamato sitting at the head of the table. His mother had prepared a lovely spread of kurigohan, mushroom soup and simmered beef and tofu. Conversation flowed easily for the most part as Yamato really did enjoy being with his family, despite his recent fall-out with Takeru. As Natsuko cleared the table, the younger man stood up quite suddenly.

"I almost forgot," he said, running into the kitchen and returning with three small plates, spoons and the box Yamato had seen him bring in. "Mimi-chan sent a pumpkin pie." He looked sheepish for a moment, avoiding Yamato's intense gaze. "I think she misses America sometimes."

Natsuko clapped her hands together in delight. "She's a lovely girl, Take-kun," she said softly. "You're a lucky young man."

Yamato excused himself from the table and opened the door to the balcony, taking out a cigarette and lighting it without caring about the cold, or her mother, or Takeru. He thought about his mother, delighted with the girl his younger brother brought home. He thought about her missing her American friends, and her American food – bringing these foreign things that fascinated him so. He crushed the butt of his cigarette against the cold veranda, then put it in his pocket. Since there was nothing he could do about the smell, he did not try to cover it up and simply sat back at the table, avoiding his mother's gaze.

A slice was already cut and served in front of him, a dash of fresh whipped cream looking up at him softly. He cut into it, wishing there was something else to stab. When they were finished Natsuko refused their help with the dishes, leaving them alone.

"You've been avoiding us," Takeru said after a while.

"I've had a lot on my mind," Yamato replied. "It doesn't have anything to do with you."

"Is this about Sora? Mimi-chan said you might need someone."

"And what else did _Mimi-chan_ say?"

"That I should forgive you for being a jerk," he sighed.

Yamato looked at his brother, a cry strangled in his throat. "Takeru … you can't be in love with her."

He saw the colour rise in his cheeks, the thinly veiled anger. "I can't? _And why the hell not?_"

"Because we can't _both_ be in love with her."

Takeru gaped at him, the colour draining from his face just as quickly. "What do you mean?"

But Yamato shook his head.

"Tell Mum I'm sorry."


	10. Dix

**Author's Notes: **I just wanted to point out how important dialogue and flow are in this particular project. Because I am limited to a 672 word count (for the sake of aesthetics), I try to pay special attention to what gets included. I'm happy to know you're liking it!

* * *

**X.**

When he agreed to meet Taichi for lunch, he had not expected to actually show up. It was a routine gig, really, cancelling on his friends' casual invitations, but he had not counted on Taichi's stubbornness or his own waning energy in rejecting him. So despite his best attempts, the lunch date was still on. He rode his motorcycle to the place, parking about a block away from the small restaurant where they had met plenty of times before. He winced, recalling he'd even taken Sora there a few times, back when they were still just casually seeing each other. He doubted Taichi remembered that, though.

He walked through the door, instantly recognising his friend's wild hair sticking out from a booth right by the large windows. Yamato waved one hand casually as he took the seat directly across Taichi, offering his friend a small, cool smile.

"I thought you'd stand me up," Taichi told him, one eyebrow raised.

"I planned to," Yamato admitted, looking at the menu with slight interest, "But I was hungry, so I figured I'd show up after all."

"Jerk," Taichi sighed, taking a sip of his cold iced tea. His brown eyes scrutinized Yamato and he frowned. "You look like shit."

Lifting an eyebrow, Yamato called the waitress and they gave out their order. He kept the menu in his hand. "Remind me again why don't I regularly have lunch with you?"

"You luck out, too often." He pointed at Yamato's face. "When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

"I don't think I remember," Yamato groaned. It wasn't entirely a lie, he _had_ been very busy with his band, and school, and trying to work on new material while avoiding vomiting bits of his heart out.

Their food was brought and they busied themselves with it for a moment. Yamato pushed vegetables around, dreading to ask the question. "How is she doing?" he asked quietly, taking a long drink of tea.

Taichi chewed slowly, then shrugged.

"We had dinner and watched a movie last night," Taichi continued, "She seems to be fine, which is the only reason you're sporting a smile instead of a black eye," he finished, frowning.

Despite himself, Yamato smiled.

"But she's worried about you. I mean, we all are, but you know how she is." He gave him a pointed look. "I don't think she likes that you're avoiding her."

"I'm not avoiding her."

"Come on," Taichi said, "We haven't seen you in weeks – not since you broke up."

But Yamato only shook his head. "It's not her I've been avoiding."

And he told Taichi. About Mimi, and what had happened years ago. About Takeru, and how he hadn't realised what he felt, how everything had crept upon him so slowly at first and then, all at once, he had been cut to the knee. He told him about Sora, and how sorry he felt he hadn't been able to love her the way she wanted| him to. Lastly, he told him about Mimi's unflinching rejection, and his brother's cold shoulder.

When he was finished he looked up, and Taichi was looking back at him with a mixture of surprise and what he imagined must be pity. "You should talk to Sora," he finally said.

"Sora?" he narrowed his eyes. "I'm not going to do that to her."

"She has a right to know," Taichi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I think she blames herself for not being there for you, but she doesn't know there's nothing she could have done different. Don't you think you owe her that?"

"Since when did you get so mature?" Yamato asked with a chuckle, knowing his friend was right down to the dot.

Taichi looked offended. "What do you mean? I've _always_ given out great advice, I'll have you _know_."

"What about …?"

"I think you should deal with your own feelings first," his friend offered wisely, "Let them deal with theirs."

_Keep your head down. Do your own time._


	11. Onze

**XI.**

They met on the tenth day of December. He swallowed thickly as she approached. Her short auburn hair was longer than he remembered, though it couldn't have been more than five – six weeks since he last saw her. They smiled, shyly and awkwardly as she came closer and took a seat at his table.

"You look good," she told him, and he smiled at the kind lie.

"I like your hair," he complimented. Her hand touched the very tips and she flushed pink.

"Oh, yeah, I'm thinking of growing it out, maybe."

"It looks good," he assured her, "Worth a try."

He asked for jasmine tea; she chose green tea and chocolate cake. Yamato placed the bundled bulb inside the hot water, breathing in the delicate scent. Sora took a bite of her dessert and he watched her, content to do just that for a while.

"I'm sorry," he let out after some minutes, making her look up at him. "I haven't been avoiding you, it's just –,"

"– Yamato, it's okay. I understand."

"No, you don't." The bulb was succumbing to the heat, opening up slowly as the water took on a golden hue. "What you said that night, when you asked me if I would come back to you…" he swallowed, "Even then, I should've known I couldn't."

"Maybe I should've been more patient," Sora told him, but though her voice wavered, she was not yet crying. "I should've tried to understand you, try harder, I – I don't know…"

Yamato reached out across the table, placing his hand over hers.

"It wasn't your fault, Sora." She looked at him, her smile softer than he remembered. "I should've been more honest with you, but I didn't even know it myself."

Her lower lip trembled. "What are you talking about, Yama-san?"

"When you asked for my heart," he began quietly, "I wanted to give it to you. I tried to, but," his hold on her hand tightened, "it wasn't mine to give."

Her hand slipped back from under his, and she looked hurt for a moment.

"Who?" she asked, so quiet that it burned him to hear it.

"Mimi," his hands gripped the tea, the flower – now fully blossomed, floating gracefully inside. "Mimi."

"Since when?"

He looked up, shaking his head a fraction. Just enough.

"It's always been her."

"And you – all this time … _why_, Yamato?"

His blue eyes widened in horror, and the words tumbled out in a hot breath.

"No," he murmured, "Sora, it wasn't like that," he swallowed, clearly uncomfortable. "I wouldn't do that to you – _she_ wouldn't do that, either."

Sora calmed down, her spoon picking at her dessert. "Does she know?"

His smile, when it came, was heart-breaking. "She … does not return my feelings."

"Are you sure of that?"

"She's with Takeru," he said stupidly.

"And you were with me. Did that stop you?"

He blushed furiously, but Sora let out a little laugh, surprising him.

"I thought you would hate me," he admitted, bringing his cup to his lips.

"I couldn't ever hate you, Yamato-kun," Sora said, "Quite frankly, I feel relieved. I kept thinking this was somehow my fault, and now I know it isn't."

Her hand reached out for his again, and he held it gratefully. "This doesn't mean that what we had wasn't real. I loved you – I still do."

"I never lied to you," he frowned, "I hope you know that."

"I know you didn't. But if anyone should understand about degrees of love, that should be me."

He leaned back on his seat, releasing her hand.

"Taichi?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sora turned a deep scarlet that clashed horribly with her hair. "He's been so nice to me these past few weeks," she spoke so quietly he almost had to strain to hear. "Nothing's happened but, would you hate us if –,"

"There's nothing you could do to make me hate you, Sora."

She smiled brightly, clearly relieved.

"You know," she began, "Mimi-chan's favourite tea is jasmine, too…"


	12. Douze

**XII.**

Yamato did not spend Christmas at home. All the preparation of the last few months had been for a four-week tour that they were engaged for. Every date had been sold out, down to the last one. During the past couple of years the popularity of his band had grown steadily, making them nationally famous. But because they were all still in college and had every intention of finishing, touring was a luxury they could rarely afford. The Christmas tour was scheduled without discussion – The Wolves needed to get out there, and soon.

It worked out splendidly for everyone, even for Yamato. He had been desperate at first to get away from everything and everyone, namely Takeru and Mimi, but now that he was he felt anxious about how he was leaving things. He imagined she wouldn't be too impressed about his half-spat confessions, and his brother hadn't talked to him since that awful dinner over a month ago. Still, his body definitely welcomed the change of pace. Despite the late nights and hassle of travelling every other day, his mind was finally occupied in something that he understood and was good at – and his heart tribulations did not reach him there.

The last show was on New Year's Eve, in the Tokyo International Forum. The tour had been a grand success and they were prepared to close it with a metaphorical _bang_. The concert was meant to start later than usual, since a New Year's Eve party was being offered afterwards by the venue. Tickets had been sold out since September. He had given tickets to all of his friends, but he hadn't actually followed through to know if they'd make it. Honestly, he hadn't had the time or the head to do it.

The lights in the scenario were hot, making him grateful for the cold December weather. Yamato held the microphone in his hand, his blue eyes glazed over as he watched the hundreds of people that had come to see them perform. When he met those pools of gold, he smiled softly at her before looking away, his attention focused on his bass guitar as he tried to forget the image of her and Takeru's linked hands.

The concert was absolute madness.

The energy had been so high Yamato actually _felt_ high. His adrenaline was at a peak and his heart was racing – like he had never felt better. He greeted his friends after changing into fresh, clean clothes and they all congratulated him, jumping up and down and claiming it was the best show of their lives. When Takeru closed in for a hug, Yamato did not hesitate in returning it.

The party was in full swing, but he had been harassed so much throughout the night that he was desperate for a gulp of cold, clean air. He went outside, his hands and face immediately complaining about the lack of proper winter wear, and his fingers fumbled for his lighter. It was only after he turned around that he realised he was not alone. Mimi and Takeru stood a few meters away from him, blissfully unaware of his presence.

He heard her tinkling laughter, the one that gutted him viciously. Takeru, who by a terrible twist of fate looked remarkably like him, was standing closer to Mimi, his hand reaching out to touch her hair. His other arm snaked around her waist and he sighed as he crushed her to him. Not two seconds passed before her arms went around his neck and she buried her face in his chest.

Yamato wanted to go, he really did, but his body would not respond to him. He couldn't look away from her, not even when her face turned upwards expectantly, or even when Takeru hesitantly reached down those six imposing inches and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

"I love you, Mimi-hime," Takeru said quietly, so quietly that if he had not been straining to hear, he probably would have missed it.

"I love you too, Take-chan."


	13. Treize

**Author's Notes:** We're almost at the end now, I'll have the last chapter up later tonight! I hope you've enjoyed this little story as much as I did.

* * *

**XIII.**

The New Year came with the same ceremony, but with less pomp. Yamato had gotten up early, despite how tired he'd been the night before. The party had ended late and it was a long time before he was allowed to call it a night, assuring his friends that he'd see them sometime soon in the next few days. With the last concert out of the way, he hardly had an excuse to hide anymore. By the time his father woke up Yamato had made tea and was waiting for him, fully dressed.

"What time is it?" Hiroaki yawned.

"Time for you to get ready," his son replied, "Mom and Takeru will be waiting for us at the Meiji Shrine. So you have fifteen minutes."

Despite their divorce, Hiroaki and Natsuko had come to the agreement that their children ought to spend more time together, which was why they usually met on special occasions and holidays. The first day of the year was for _hatsumode_, the first visit to the shrine. Hiroaki's family was very traditional, and they had tried, somewhat successfully, to pass that on to their children. The place was full, but it was neutral ground for both families and they could always have lunch afterwards, together. Yamato lit his incense sticks, waving them solemnly over his head to purify himself for the coming year. He sighed, letting the incense burn, clapping twice before he spun on his heel and walked out, hands deep inside his pockets.

"Should we get tea?" Natsuko asked after lunch was cleared and Hiroaki had gone to pay.

"You guys go ahead," Takeru shook his head, "Me and oni-san already have plans."

"On New Year?" their mother asked, surprised.

The younger blonde shrugged.

"We're going to the festival. We can see you there later."

Yamato did not bother protesting, but his eyes were fixed coldly on his brother's smiling face.

"I suppose we should get going, then."

They said good-bye to their mother and left, with Takeru in the lead.

"So what are these plans, exactly?" Yamato asked, slamming a pair of sunglasses on his face.

"Didn't I say we were going to the festival?"

"Be serious, Takeru."

"I _am_," he defended, "But I need to talk to you first."

Yamato swallowed, but he did not slow down and neither did his brother. They were leaving Shibuya behind, heading towards the train station. They paid for their tickets and mounted the first shuttle back to Odaiba, sitting in half-empty compartment.

"You don't have to say anything," he said, "I was out of line. _Way_ out of line. What you do is your business, and I should respect that – I'm going to."

Takeru laid back on his seat, his hands casually clasped behind his head.

"You were," he admitted, not looking at his brother. "But you were also right. We can't both be in love with her."

Yamato smiled, closing his eyes.

"I wish I knew how to stop."

"It was my idea, you know. I kept asking her and she kept turning me down. She only said yes to indulge me," Takeru sighed, "I don't think either of us expected it to last this long."

"Takeru, I really don't –,"

"But we're better off as friends – don't get me wrong, she's beautiful, funny and absolutely _perfect_. But, I think she's in love with someone else," he grimaced. "That's a bit of a deal-breaker."

Yamato's heart had stopped pumping, and he felt lightheaded all of a sudden. He wasn't listening anymore – couldn't, _because if what Takeru was saying was true then…_

His brother looked at him curiously, arching an eyebrow in a gesture too reminiscent of himself. "I would have never asked her if I had known," he looked up at Yamato with such honesty it made him shiver. "You have to know that."

Slowly, he nodded.

"I do."

But the unspoken accusation lingered in the air.

"She didn't mean to, either," Takeru continued. "I think I reminded her too much of you," he chuckled dryly.


	14. Quatorze

**Author's Note:** The end. Thank you for sticking through, I hope you enjoyed it. xo

* * *

**XIV.**

Winter had come and gone, leaving with the promise of spring. He had spent the last three days in a daze, unable or perhaps unwilling to see anyone, or talk to anyone at all. He had declined to meet his friends that day, claiming to be still exhausted. Both Sora and Taichi had called to check in, promising they'd plan another outing soon. Takeru had known better but did not pursue it, and for that, he was thankful.

They were meeting at the Odaiba Seaside Park that evening, Taichi had texted him saying so. Celebrations were still going on all over Japan, and the night would be ripe with festivities, games and food. He didn't confirm his assistance, unsure himself if he would be able to make it or not. When the afternoon found him taking the Yurikamome Line to Tokyo Bay, he was as surprised as anyone else. His feet felt like lead as he walked towards them, but he forced a small smile to his face.

"Yamato-san!" Hikari exclaimed happily. The rest turned to meet him with their own grins and happy waves, clapping his back and hugging him lightly.

"I'm starting to think you just like a dramatic entrance," Taichi said, lips pursed.

Yamato shrugged. "I can't help it if I'm missed, Taichi."

His eyes involuntarily looked for Mimi, but he was unable to find her. Before he asked, Koushiro answered his question. "Mimi-chan said she'd wait by the Ferris wheel," he smiled, "Why don't you go ahead while we wait for Miyako-chan?"

The blonde looked at the redhead for a moment, but he only nodded encouragingly. Takeru had one arm around Hikari's shoulders, the other around their American friend, Wallace. The three were laughing at something Daisuke clearly had missed. No-one was paying them any attention, not when Taichi yelled into Jyou's phone, demanding to know what was taking Miyako so long while Sora and Saegusa Mayumi, Jyou's pretty friend, shook their heads, amused.

Yamato slipped away quietly, his mind set on one thing only. When he arrived at the Ferris wheel, he panicked a little, wondering if she hadn't left. But then his blue eyes found her, standing idly by a booth that offered good-luck charms and other whatnot. Her cinnamon-coloured hair was bound in a loose braid; from where he stood it looked like a mermaid's tail, shining under the fairy lights.

The blonde approached her slowly, his hands deep inside his jeans' pockets. She was wearing a light pink coat, but he would have recognised her even without it. "See anything you like?" he asked.

"Yama-kun," Mimi said softly, her smile small and shy. She shrugged. "I wasn't really seeing them – too many things. I get distracted."

"I'm familiar with the feeling," he replied. His smile faltered a little. "I never got around to thanking you," he licked his lips. "For being there that night."

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Neither of us would have."

"And I appreciate that." He looked ahead at the Ferris wheel. "Will you come with me?" he offered a hand.

Mimi stared at him, hesitating.

"Please, Mi-rin."

She nodded, but she did not take his hand. They walked towards the Ferris wheel line, luckily managing the last two-person booth (he would later vehemently deny having planned such a thing). Yamato helped her up, then climbed into the small space after her.

"I wasn't expecting to see you tonight," she admitted after a moment, her eyes fixed on his face now as the wheel started.

"Were you waiting for someone else?" he asked, his voice quiet. He drew closer to her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. His hand sought hers and brought it to his lips.

"You're the only one I've waited for, Yama-kun," Mimi replied softly. "Did it take you long to find me?" She let out a sigh, drawing him closer, her hand gripping his tightly as he pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder.

"I'm here now," he murmured into her hair, "I'm home."


End file.
